Every year, for as long as he could remember, and perhaps even longer, four hombres would make their way into the small town from the west. Nobody knew where they were coming from, nobody knew where they were going. But everybody knew their tunes. Old and young filled the cantina. They sang and danced the whole night through, to strange songs of love, death, and long voyages. When dawn came, and the guests had fallen asleep exhausted, the four musicians took their leave… and the prettiest girls along with them. Only the dodo knew where they disappeared to, and by next year, all was forgotten.
Rumor has it, they were called the “Deadass Dobro”.